Hi, Captain Spunker again! A bunch of Kuroshitsuji fans have pointed out the resemblance between Sebastian and Ciel's father Vincent, which apparently Yana Toboso has said is intentional. Yours truly, being the avid conspiracy theorist that she is, came up with an explanation that is probably a far cry from what the author of Kuroshitsuji intended, but I absolutely love it, and that's all that matters, right?

Quick warning: There are a few angsty parts, especially in this first chapter. Just thought I'd give you guys a heads-up!

In a tiny village in the middle of an enormous forest lived a young man and his beautiful wife. The couple had just welcomed the birth of their first child, their beautiful child with milky skin, ebony hair, and ruby eyes. The boy was the spitting image of his father, except the man had dark blue-gray hair, dark brown irises, and a small mole under the corner of his left eye. He smiled down at his sweet child.

"Look at his eyes!" the baby's mother exclaimed. "Such a pretty red!"

"Red for courage," his father mused. "Do you think this means he'll be a brave soldier for our dear Lord?"

"Oh, I hope so, dearest. Although… he can't be a soldier if he doesn't have a name."

Husband and wife chuckled at the joke. "What shall we name him, then, my love?" the man asked.

The woman gazed at her child in thought. "I want it to be something spiritual, a testament to his Maker. Something pious and good…"

"Selah."

The woman beamed. "Oh, dearest, that's a lovely name! I wonder why I didn't think of it!"

The man chuckled. "I like it as well. It suits him, don't you think?"

He took the cooing baby from his wife's arms and held him close. "My sweet, precious son. You are an answer to our prayers, and I will never cease loving you. Never forget that you are always in our hearts, and before all else set God at the center of your life. It is to Him that you owe everything… my dearest Selah."

"Tabitha!"

The young man frowned and crossed his arms. "Where on earth could that ridiculous cat be? Oh, I hope she's not in Mrs. Petersen's flowers again! That poor woman has had enough going wrong for her lately as it is!"

At twenty-one-years old, Selah had blossomed into a beautiful young man. His raven bangs parted in the middle, with two long pieces near his temples hanging down to his chin. His slender body, though weak from prior illness, had matured into a tall and shapely thing, with his silky skin as pure and white as snow. And his rosy eyes sparkled with health and joy and thankfulness at being alive.

He would be— sort of already was— much sought after by the ladies of the village if not for those same eyes.

When he had been christened, the priest had taken one look at the red orbs and declared the baby a child of Satan. "Red eyes are unnatural and a sign of the devil!" he'd cried. Selah's parents had begged him to baptize the child anyway, which he did with great reluctance. Unfortunately, that incident had marked the boy as an outcast, and the village had given him plenty of grief over the years. Poor Selah tried his best not to let it bother him— after all, God had made him this way, and who would he be to deny the Lord's gifts? But it was getting more and more difficult to ignore the others' cruel remarks and snide glances, especially since he came of age.

Selah shook his head. I best try asking around, he thought. Who knows what antics she's in up to her tail?

He left the cottage and went in search of the errant black cat. Making his way to the fountain at the center of town, he paused at the crowd of young women gathered around and chattering in excitement. That's odd. What are they doing besides just gossiping?

"Mrrowwwwwwww!"

Selah gasped. "Tabitha?!" He ran over and pushed his way through the crowd, stopping short at the edge of the fountain. Tabitha yowled, standing on her hind legs in the fountain, soaked to the bone. The distraught young man scooped her out and clutched her to his chest. He turned to the ladies and frowned. "Why on earth would you torture a poor creature like this? You know cats hate water!"

One of the girls giggled. "But she looked so funny all wet like a drowned rat!"

"W-What? Funny? But harming or scaring an animal isn't funny at all! You're supposed to be devout women of the Lord, how can you treat His creation like this?"

"Devout?! You should talk! You act sooooo pious and true when everyone knows you're a demon-child in disguise!" another girl cried. At that, Selah's eyes welled up with tears.

"But I'm n-not! Just because m-my eyes are r-red doesn't mean I'm ev-vil!" he sobbed out. He ducked his head and fled the group, running for his house.

After he dried Tabitha off, he climbed onto his bed with her and lay there weeping. The cat mewed, sensing her friend's hurt, and snuggled close to him. Selah stroked her glossy fur, sniffling.

"I don't understand, Tabitha. They're all supposed to be followers of God! How can they act this way? How can they do all the Catholic church requires of them and still be so cruel? Have they not been saved?"

Tabitha purred. Selah's eyes widened as he came to a realization.

"They haven't been saved…. Of course! How else could they say one thing and do another? Doing good things doesn't automatically make one a Christian— anyone can do good things and look pious without having a changed heart! Good things can be done for evil reasons! Why didn't I think of that before? …But that means I don't know how to be saved. If works can't do it, then what will?"

He sighed. "If only I could read the Bible at the chapel, perhaps I could find the secret to salvation…. Getting someone to help won't be easy, and Father can't read Greek. What am I to do, Tabitha?"

"What do you mean, what are you to do? Why the sad face, my darling?" Father peeked in the room. Sebastian glanced up.

"Father!" he cried. "Oh, Father, it's awful!" Father's eyes widened and he rushed to his son's side, scooping him up.

"What's awful, sweetheart?"

Selah sniffled. "I'm— not— s-saved!" he sobbed. "I don't know h-how! I c-can't just do good w-works and expect G-God to l-let me in to h-heaven! But what else a-am I to d-do?"

Father's face clouded with shock at the source of his child's pain. "Oh, sweetheart! I… I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that. Your mother and I grew up believing we could be saved if we behaved appropriately and loved God in all our ways. If that's not true, then that means this whole village is in dire need of salvation and doesn't know how to access it."

"We need to h-have the Bible translated s-so everyone can read it." Selah had calmed down and wiped his face with the sleeve of his long cloak. "That's th-the only way we can know…."

"I should speak to Father Gerschlenn, in that case. God willing, he'll listen to reason and get started on it immediately; projects like that take a long time, and so many people need to hear the truth."

"I hope he will agree."

That night, after Selah had fallen asleep, Father sat on the edge of his bed, frowning. "It hurts to see him in such anguish."

"Our son?" Mother asked. "Our son is injured?"

"Not his body, but his soul. He told me this afternoon that he wasn't saved because he didn't know how to be. You know how dearly he desires to be close to the Lord."

"Not saved? Our precious, sweet, loving, devoted child— not saved? I don't understand! Certainly such a pure soul as his has secured his place in heaven!"

Father sighed. "That's just it, though. He does everything right— forgetting his mistakes, he's essentially perfect— but he believes that doing good is not enough to save him. He says that the townspeople do the same good works, yet they treat him like rubbish, and he doesn't think a true Christian would discriminate against someone simply because of the eye color God gave them."

"That's… rather perceptive, actually," Mother murmured. "A true Christian would avoid hurting a fellow brother, not take every chance they have to bully them. Why didn't we see this earlier?"

"I've been wondering that myself, and it makes me think: how many others have realized this?"

"I don't know. What are you going to do about it?"

"You can't be serious!" Father Gerschlenn huffed. "The Lord's Holy Bible is not for just anyone to read! Someone could easily misinterpret its meaning and go on a horribly wrong path!"

"Shouldn't that be for us to decide? After all, haven't you been doing some misinterpretation yourself? Where exactly does it say that good works are what get us into heaven?" Father pointed out. Gerschlenn's eyes widened.

"Whoever put this idea to you? Have you been listening to that good-for-nothing wife of yours again?"

"Good-for-noth— how dare you slander her! She is, and always has been, faithful to me alone!"

"She slept with the devil! How do you think your illegitimate son came about?"

Father gasped. "That boy is my son! I know it because he looks almost exactly like me! And besides, his utmost desire is to be close to God. How can you refuse him that simply because you don't like the way God made him? No child of Satan would ever dream of getting close to Him, they would stay as far away from Him as possible!"

"He's putting on a show, don't you see it? He acts like the perfect little child because he's trying to draw you away from the truth, which he's done a marvelous job by the way, and bring you towards Hell! He wants to make you doubt your faith and lead you into heresy!"

"If that's so, then why didn't you answer my original question?"

"I already did!"

Selah stifled a sigh as he listened to their argument from his hiding spot in the shadows. No, you didn't, Father Gerschlenn, and my father has caught your mistake.

"I'm afraid that's not the question I'm talking about. I asked where exactly in the Bible does it explicitly say that good works are the way we must be saved."

"I— well— that's heavily implied!"

Father frowned. "If God wanted His people to be saved, and good works were the only way to achieve that salvation, then don't you think He would've expressly stated it?"

"This is why laymen aren't allowed to have access to the Bible! You're not interpreting it correctly!"

"Is that so? Or do you refuse to acknowledge that there is a flaw in your theology?" Father asked.

Gerschlenn spluttered, frustrated.

Father saddened. "I suppose I'll take my leave, then." He turned on his heel and exited the chapel, shaking his head. Gerschlenn shut and locked the doors behind him, then turned and headed up the flight of stairs towards the belfry, leaving Selah alone in the darkened church.

Well, how am I supposed to get out now?

Selah made his way into the sanctuary and crept along the wall, feeling for the handle to the side door. It might be locked at this hour, but at least he didn't need a key to unlock it. "Ouch!"

He'd bumped into one of the supporting pillars by accident. Selah grimaced and rubbed his hurt foot. Oops. I should probably get accustomed to the darkness first.

He waited, and bit by bit he could see the different shapes of the pews, the pillars, and the altar. He made to take a step— and felt something very evil next to him. He turned to look and found himself staring at glowing fuchsia eyes.

He screamed.

Selah ran for the side door, crying for help. Just as he burst out into the sunset, the sanctuary exploded in flames. The ravenette fell to the ground and gazed up at the burning building in horror, too stunned to do anything else.

Someone called his name— was it Father?— but he couldn't respond, his eyes fixated on the blaze before him. Bile rose in his throat at the thought that he could be in the fire right now if he hadn't been quick enough.

"Selah! Sweetheart? Say something, you're scaring me!"

Selah tore his gaze from the fire, gasping and trembling, and vomited on the ground. Father gave a little cry. "S-Selah? Selah?" Tears leaked out onto his face. "Someone help me! M-My son! He won't respond!" He pulled the young man onto his lap and cradled his face, sobbing. "Please! Anyone! He needs help!"

"He's the reason the fire started!" a villager yelled. "He ran out right before the place blew!"

"No…" Father whispered. "No, you wouldn't do that, would you, sweetheart? You wouldn't… burn it down, you want to get close to God so badly…. Sweetie? Selah? Can you hear me?"

"Get him out of here! He's a menace!" Several men seized the red-eyed man and tore him from his father's hands. Father shrieked in horror and grabbed at his son, but they held him back.

"Give me back my son! You can't take a child from his parent! Selah!"

Selah gasped and snapped out of his daze. "F-Father?"

"Selah! Sweetheart!"

"Father!" Selah reached for his father, but the crowd drove them apart. "FATHER! Help me!" He struggled against the men holding him, but to no avail.

"EVERYONE QUIET DOWN!"

Gerschlenn emerged from the chapel's front doors, singed but unhurt. Selah gave a little cry of relief, and his knees went weak. "Father Gerschlenn! You're all right! Thank heavens!"

"SILENCE!" the priest roared. "Throw him into the woods outside the village! I never want to see his falsely angelic face ever again!"

"What? Why?" But the men dragged him away. "No. No! FATHER!"

"SELAH!"

"FATHERRRRRRR!"

Selah bawled as the men hauled him out into the forest and threw him down a steep hill. He rolled down the hill and stopped some distance from its foot, curling into a ball and sobbing.

"Don't ever come back, devil-child!" one of the men yelled as they left.

No… Father…

Selah lost all track of time as he lay on the ground. It was only when someone picked him up that he quit zoning out, but by then he'd been dumped in a sack and hoisted over the person's shoulder. He whimpered and wrapped his arms around his knees. Several minutes passed before he was set down. Around him, strange music played and people shouted in a bizarre language. Then someone opened the sack and ripped him out, leading him toward a black altar surrounded with torches and naked people. A figure cloaked in black loomed over the altar with a dagger in his hand.

Selah shrieked and clutched his rosary. He was about to become a pagan sacrifice!

He struggled with all his might, but the men brought him over to the altar and bound his hands and feet. He screamed when they tore the rosary off of him and chucked it on the ground where the other acolytes trampled it. That had been a coming-of-age gift from his father and all he'd had of him until now. Then they hoisted him onto the altar and the executioner raised his knife.

Selah looked up into the night sky, tears streaming from his eyes and his heart filled with despair. Is there anyone who can save me now? Would you rescue me, Lord, unsaved as I am? Please hear my cry!

The black figure stabbed him. Blood exploded from his stomach and mouth, and he went limp, still staring into the night.

"My. What delicious despair. What enticing defeat. Your soul would be most delicious, I imagine."

Selah turned his head at the cruel voice and beheld the evil spirit he'd sensed in the chapel. The demon's fuchsia eyes gleamed. "But instead I have a different idea."

Agony raced through his body and plunged him into darkness.

He stood before the demon, not remembering anything at all and not really caring. "What am I?"

"You are a demon," the creature answered.

"What is my name?"

The thing gave a wicked grin. "You don't have one."

"What is your name?"

The red-eyed demon smiled. "It is whatever my lord wishes it to be."

"Sebastian."

Sebastian screamed and woke up— and remembered.